


Crouched at the feet of fair Athene

by JaqofSpades



Category: Revolution (TV)
Genre: Multi, TSC Prompt 31, mild d&s themes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-30
Updated: 2015-11-20
Packaged: 2018-04-24 02:00:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,097
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4901209
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JaqofSpades/pseuds/JaqofSpades
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nora  likes it when people compete for her attention, Charlie remembers, pushing Miles out of the way to kiss away her smirk on those pillowy lips.</p><p>“God, Charlie,” Nora moans, fisting a hand in her hair as her hips start into a slow grind over Miles' cock. “Taste so good.”</p><p>“Not as good as you're going to,” she says boldly, and then bites the bullet. “What do you think, Uncle Miles? A bottle of whiskey for whoever can make Nora come first?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Notes: Written for theorgyarmada’s challenge Revolution: The Second Coming. This is my Charlie/Miles/Nora fill for prompt 31: “They like to compete to see who can keep her attention the longest.”

 

It’s Nora – fierce Nora, practical Nora, faithful Nora – who keeps them moving after Danny dies. Rachel is an automaton, Charlie is drifting, and Miles seems mortally wounded. Nora harries them, berates them, begs them into following her from one Rebel bunker to the next.

Until she drops. Exhaustion, Rachel diagnoses, eyes dead and uncaring. They should keep running. It would be what Nora wanted.

Miles roars, more alive than he’s been in weeks. Charlie balls her fists at her side, appalled by the urge to slam them into her mother’s beautiful face.

“We’re not leaving,” she says, and stomps out into the night. Nora had insisted on a nightly patrol, so a patrol she would get. Miles takes charge of finding them a place to hide out for a while, not willing to trust the Rebels any more than he does the Militia.

The place is kind of nice, Charlie has to admit. An old hunting lodge, deep in the forest, with a maze of rooms leading off a cavernous common room. There’s enough space for them each to have a room, though once Rachel and Aaron leave on their crazy quest to find the mythical Tower, Charlie, Miles and Nora rarely bother to shut themselves away.

With winter already in the wind, they become slaves to the firepit at the centre of the common room, stretching out on the disintegrating couches to swap stories of their exploits. Charlie giggles her way through Nora’s well-woven stories, Miles swearing none of it is true until Nora raises an elegant eyebrow.

“Okay, maybe there’s a grain or two of truth in there somewhere,” he grimaces, and tugs at Nora’s unbound hair. “But I’ll have you know I hired you because you were the best damn bounty hunter I’d ever seen. _As well as_ the prettiest,” he smirks.

“So it had absolutely nothing to do with that red dress cut down to here and up to here,” Nora hoots, indicating levels just shy of her nipples and her crotch. “You should have seen it, Charlie. I was positively hanging out of that damn thing, and Miles and Bass were competing for my attention all night.”

Charlie smiles uncomfortably, not even trying to reconcile their mortal enemy, Monroe, with the ‘Bass’ who so often creeps into their stories. Conversation would stall, at first, with his atrocities fresh in their mind, but as the three of them grew closer, Nora and Miles stopped censoring their reminiscing.

“Who won?” Charlie asks, because they’ve tiptoed around the fact before, but always stopped short of an outright admission.

But not tonight.

“We all did,” Miles grins, and it’s not his usual smirk, cynical or self-deprecatory. It’s pure, concentrated sin, and it makes Charlie’s belly clench and roll in a way she knows it really shouldn’t. Not for her Uncle, anyway.

So she turns her attention to Nora.

“Was it worth it?”

Nora licks her lips at the memory. Charlie nearly groans at the eroticism that transforms her face, the mesmerising descent of dark lashes over sloe eyes, the flush that overlays high cheekbones as she takes a long breath, mouth parted, as if breathing is suddenly more difficult.

“Hmm hmm,” she hums in answer, then braves a glance at Miles. “And it had nothing to do with that damn contract.”

Something breaks between them, and Miles drags her into him, claiming her lips in a hungry, open-mouthed kiss. The axis of the room tilts, and Charlie watches helplessly as Nora climbs right into his lap, hands roaming his chest, burrowing under his shirt, ravenous.

She should be walking away, leaving them to it, but Charlie can’t move. Besides. Her bedroll is laid out practically at their feet. The fire is _just there_. And the way Nora’s skin glows in the firelight is dragging her closer, helpless in the face of the urge to press a kiss to the slope of her neck.

Nora tilts her head to give Charlie access to the sensitive territory underneath her jaw; the grunt overhead is the only indication she has that Miles has noticed.

Fuck him, Charlie thinks rebelliously, and starts to catalogue the flavours she can taste in Nora’s skin: a slight tang of sweat, the inescapable scorch of woodsmoke, the sweetness of whiskey. Something sharper – gunpowder, perhaps, or dynamite – and underneath it, she swears she can taste the headiness of desire. Not that she ever has. Tasted a woman's desire that is.

But then, she's never wanted to, before Nora. Who likes it when people compete for her attention, Charlie remembers, pushing Miles out of the way to kiss away her smirk on Nora's pillowy lips.

“God, Charlie,” Nora moans, fisting a hand in her hair as her hips start into a slow grind over Miles' cock. “Taste so good.”

“Not as good as you're going to,” she says boldly, and then bites the bullet. “What do you think, Uncle Miles? A bottle of whiskey for whoever can make Nora come first?”

Miles looks poleaxed, his mouth opening and closing as he tries to object. Charlie just rolls her eyes.

“What? The Butcher of Baltimore has moral objections?”

“You're my niece, Charlie!”

“Didn't say you had to fuck me. This is about Nora, remember?” And if you believe that, I have a discount empire to sell you, Charlie Matheson. Nora was the sweet honey harvested at the height of spring, and Miles was the rich, yellow butter you slathered all over the bread. Each a treat in its own right, but so much better together.

They'd figure it out though. First, she had a competition to win.

 


	2. Chapter 2

Miles is still gaping at her when Charlie takes advantage of his distraction to jump into the fray. She slides onto the couch next to Miles and lays her head on his shoulder, meeting Nora's incredulous gaze with her own. “So?”

“The things you Mathesons will do for a bottle of whiskey,” Nora laughs, but Charlie can see the uncertainty in her eyes.

That, right there, is her first objective. She's not leaving this couch until Nora is fully aware of just how much Charlie wants her. Whiskey be damned. She leans forward, ghosting her lips over the shell of Nora's ear, whispering low so it's a secret between the two of them. “It's going to taste like dirty water compared to the taste of your pussy. I've been wanting this, Nora. For such a long time.”

Nora blushes – it's a mere glow under the coppery brown of her skin, but Charlie has been watching this woman for months now, and knows a blush when she sees it. Knows also that Nora is too honest to hide from Charlie's confession. The only question is whether or not the woman who likes to blow things up wants to light this particular fuse.

She's not left waiting for long. Nora leans across from her perch on Miles' lap to lick her answer into Charlie's mouth, ghost it over her skin, bite it into the delicious patch of flesh at the juncture of neck and shoulder. They are both breathing hard by the time Nora finally says the words. “Been wanting to kiss you since that very first day. It was just ...” she jerks her head towards Miles, grimacing a little.

“Complicated?” Charlie finishes, holding Nora's gaze as she reaches out to stroke the smooth skin of her waist where her tank has ridden up. She smiles at Nora's little gasp, then moves her hand lower to toy with the top button of her jeans. “Doesn't have to be. You like him. Maybe you like me?” Nora nails her with an stern look that makes Charlie wrinkle her nose in return. Sure, she'd suspected, but it wasn't territory you went charging into until you were sure of the terrain, and wasn't Nora already worried this had the potential to get sticky? “Thing is, Nora. No one is asking you to choose.”

Miles lets out a long, tortured groan that has them looking at him with concern. Nora is still sitting on his thighs, but the long kiss with Charlie has tugged her off centre, framing the massive bulge nestled between Nora's parted thighs.   Charlie bites her tongue – Miles doesn't need to know what the sight of him aroused does to her, not now when it needs to be all about Nora – but silently vows to redouble her efforts. Time to kill two birds with one, wickedly sinful stone. Three, even.

If a simple kiss can make his cock twitch like that, she's pretty damn confident she can win the bet, make Nora explode like her favourite blend of plastique and TNT, and seduce her uncle into the bargain.

“Don't you agree, Uncle Miles?”

“Like I'd every be anyone's choice,” her uncle snorts. Nora's eyes narrow a little, but Charlie refuses to have this descend into one of their arguments. If Miles is going to be a little bitch about it – all the more Nora for her, she smirks, hooking her arms underneath Nora's to tug her forwards, and roll her between them.

“Hey!”

“You snooze, you lose,” she retorts without even looking at him.   Her focus is completely taken up by the woman between them, dark eyes wide in an exquisitely fine-boned face, limbs akimbo, and lips parted with surprise. Clothes, inconveniently, still on.

Charlie holds Nora's gaze as she moves an exploratory hand to the top button of Nora's worn jeans. “Can I?” She waits for Nora's enthusiastic nod before nudging it open, then the second, then the third. Nora's panties come into view, a deep dark red, the fabric some magical thing that conceals, yet still manages to hint at the riot of dark curls beneath.   There's a jewel begging to be stolen, Charlie thinks. A beacon, demanding she follow. A prayer, waiting to be sung.

The poetry tugging at her soul shocks Charlie into action, one hand tangling in Nora's hair to capture her lips in endless open-mouthed kiss, the other stroking a line between Nora's hip bones before moving down into her jeans, one finger, two, her entire hand enlisted in the business of driving Nora Clayton out of her mind.

The puffs of breath in her ear grow ragged as she uses her fingernails to scratch at the front panel of Nora's panties, then settles into teasing the plump lips through the increasingly damp fabric. Her fingers slide up and down, up and down, sometimes skimming lightly, other times pressing hard enough to make Nora writhe under her hands. Every now and then, Charlie grazes Nora's clit in passing – but nowhere near enough. When Nora puffs out something that might have been a laugh but could have easily been a groan, she grins back unrepentantly. “More?”

“Dios mio. Yes. I need –” Nora glances at Miles, and the mute appeal makes Charlie bristle. He doesn't own them. It's no business of his if Charlie wants to dedicate herself to Nora's pleasure, whether it's for the rest of her life, or just a handful of moments to make sure Nora knows how important she is. The things she has done for them – this woman is a goddess, and the Mathesons should prostrate themselves at her feet.

“Ignore him. I can give you what you need,” Charlie vows. “Over and over.”

Something catches fire in Nora's eyes, and this time she's not thinking about Miles.   She stretches, slow and delicious, eyes slipping closed as she bows her back, a sleek, deadly creature basking in her own power. Miles and Charlie stare, enraptured, as Nora gives herself over to the moment, the sensuality she usually works to hide now evident in every slow breath and the languid arch of her body.

“Everything,” she demands. “I need _everything_.”

Nora seizes Charlie's hand and brings it back to her body. This time, she refuses to be teased, pushing Charlie's hand inside her panties and holding it there until her fingers are buried deep inside her sopping folds. The connection between them snaps taut with want as Charlie etches circles on Nora's clit with an attentive thumb, then just as she starts to buck, plunges two fingers into her tight canal. Nora hisses out a long, wanton moan, and her eyes slip closed, the thick black fan of lashes almost as beautiful as being able to look into lust blown eyes. Almost. Charlie adds a third finger and crooks them back towards herself, making Nora's eyes shoot open, searching for hers in a bid to share the now-frantic bliss.

But she's getting ahead of herself, Charlie pouts. She wants to see Nora come more than she wants to breathe, but … Miles is cursing up a storm next to her, and it damn well better be a decision. She backs off a little, lets Nora fall away from the edge with the murmur of apology, then turns to Miles. “So. Do you accept the terms or not?”

She's never seen his eyes so black, she realises, and it robs her of any need to play fair. She pulls her fingers out of Nora's pussy and sucks the juices from them so salaciously he actually growls.

“My cock versus your fingers? Bring it on, kid.”

Oh, Miles. That requires hardcore payback, and she'll be taking it, too. But first things first.   Nora screaming her name might be exactly the lesson the bastard needs.

Charlie pushes herself up from the couch, then drops back down between Nora's feet. “I think we need to get rid of these,” she teases, then hooks her fingers in Nora's beltloops to drag the jeans down and off over her feet. “We'll leave your socks on to make sure you don't get cold. But these ...”

Nora's body is a jewel in it's own right, Charlie thinks reverently as she gazes on the sopping curls that guard Nora's sex. She glances up to find Miles trying to steal his own march, tugging Nora's tank top over her head to reveal a garnet-coloured bra that isn't an exact match for the panties, but close enough. Miles, she thinks with a sniff, is too keen to get underneath it to properly appreciate that marvellous colour against the rich, dark canvas of Nora's skin.

But maybe she's underestimating him because he hasn't taken it off, simply scooped her dark-tipped breasts out of the cups, their lushness almost obscene spilling over the top like that. Especially when he – Charlie moans at the sudden gush that darkens Nora's wet panties further, her own body reacting identically to the sight of Miles using his teeth to worry Nora's long, dark nipples. Her hips start to buck as he gorges himself on her flesh, almost engulfing her with his mouth, and Charlie has to rub her thighs together to soothe the ache.

It doesn't work, but she has an idea what might.

She catches Nora's hips as they thrust upwards, and pulls her underwear off in a single, efficient swoop. Nora probably doesn't realise they're gone, she smirks, sitting on her heels to open Nora wide with her thumbs. Good.

The shriek threatens to deafen all three of them, Miles shaking his head in shock as Nora tumbles into a volley of words, only a handful of which seem to be in English. Charlie can divine the meaning though.

Don't stop. Never stop. Make me come.

(The tone is kinda universal.)

She's fucking Nora in earnest with her tongue by the time Miles remembers they are competing for Nora's attention, and pulls out the big guns. Or is it gun, singular.

“I know something you don't know,” he singsongs as he unbuckles his pants, dropping them with shameless intent. Charlie would roll her eyes if she could – smug fuck – but she's up to her eyeballs in sweet, juicy pussy and nothing short of a cataclysm was stealing her attention now. Nora is close, her hips fighting the downwards press of Charlie's forearms in a bid to buck and if she just …

Victory, Charlie thinks as her mouth floods, her tastebuds glorying in the flavour and keen tongue refusing to consider the job over yet. She plans to fuck Nora right through to at least one more orgasm, and then she can breathe again. Maybe even enjoy that bottle of whiskey Miles owes her.

How Matheson of her to expect things to go to plan.


	3. Chapter 3

“So here’s the thing, Charlie.” Miles sounds all business, as if he’s pulling apart a battle plan, or planning a heist. Maybe he is, she shivers, and casts about for an appropriate defence, every last trick a man has ever used to make her scream, and every fantasy she’s ever spun around another girl. Surrender isn’t an option, Charlie thinks mutinously, no matter how tempting it might be.

She lifts her head for a moment and slowly licks her lips, the weight of her uncle’s stare making her clit throb. “Mmm. Taste so good, baby,” she croons to Nora, and flickers her tongue to show Miles just how awash with Nora’s pleasure she is. “But you can go again, I know you can.”

Her uncle’s smile is a slow gotcha as he fists his cock with obscene enjoyment.

“You could push her over again easily enough, but it’d be fast and shallow. Sure she’d enjoy it while it lasted, but … it’d be just another orgasm. Nothing particularly memorable,” he says coolly. “Certainly nothing worth a bottle of good whiskey.”

Charlie bristles, but Nora hasn’t moved her eyes from Miles’ face yet, and there so much breathless anticipation there … she’s missing something, Charlie realises. Some critical intelligence that has let Miles get the jump on her.

She lifts her head.

“I’m listening.”

His smirk is so triumphant it’s just as well her arms are still full of Nora or she just might have punched him in the face. Miles doesn’t even notice her murderous look, he’s so busy settling back onto the couch, then dragging Nora up onto him in spite of Charlie’s protests. Which die away quickly when her brain finally catches up what he’s saying.

“Who’s my greedy girl, then? Did Charlie let you have it all your way? Just pushed you straight off the edge? Poor Nora. Maybe we should her just how good it can be,” he growls, looking through the curtain of Nora’s hair to catch the moment Charlie’s resentment turns to intrigue.

She’s still Matheson enough to turn it back on him, though. To let him see the want that fires in her eyes, and the fact it’s not all for Nora. “Promises, promises,” she moans and pushes her breasts together so brutally they threaten to fall out of her shirt. “Uncle Miles,” she adds slyly when his eyes darken at the sight.

Curses spit from his mouth, but her Matheson soul immediately recognises them as frustrated barks of pure sexual need. She howls back, unable to quell the sharp huff of lust that escapes her mouth, or the need to pinch and twist at her own nipples until the state of her arousal is turgid and undeniable.

“Oh, Charlie,” Nora moans, eyes hot as rake over the aching peaks still shrouded in her threadbare tank. “Strip for us?”

Miles wraps a fist in her hair and jerks her head back. “Who says I’ll let you look? You wanna fuck my niece, Nora? Suck on her pretty tits and make her cum all over your face just like she did for you?”

Nora’s cry of assent ends in a high-pitched wail when he pinches her clit between two cruel fingers. “Well, soldier, that’s not how this is going to go. She strips when I tell her to strip. You kiss her when I tell you to kiss her.”

Charlie swallows her gasp and waits for Nora’s fury to spill forth. But instead, her friend - badass Nora, passionate Nora, scary Nora - bites her lip, and casts her eyes down. She takes a long, shuddery breath before responding: “Yes sir. Anything you say, sir. _Please_ , Sir.”

He rewards her with a long lick up the side of her throat, and a single finger that nudges between dark petals to gently trace around the mouth of her glistening, dark red sex. Once, twice, a third lingering tease – Nora is clearly boneless under his hands, head thrown back to let her mouth her pleas against his throat.

It’s as if she has adjusted the dial on Miles’ binoculars and is finally seeing things clearly at last. An answer to the question Charlie has never quite plucked up the courage to ask.

She’s still not sure _exactly_ what it means, only that she knows she’s seen it over and over, Miles cranking up Nora’s desire with every order he gives, but this time, they are letting her see where it goes. Where it might end. And it’s setting her on fire.

(What makes someone want that? To submit like that? Does it mean you’re weak?)

“Good girl. Shall we show her how you really like it? Wind you up like a doll until you scream for me? Would do anything for my cock?”

Nora’s eyes are closed now, her body rocking as Miles’ fingers etch figure eights that barely nudge her clit in passing before swooping back down to traverse the sensitive tissues at her opening. His other hand is working too, Charlie realises, a rhythmic motion hidden by the lush glory of Nora’s ass, constantly pressing backwards in the bid for more touch.

Miles interrupts her rapt stare with the same rude click of his tongue that he uses to direct his horse. “In or out, soldier?”

“What? In or out of what exactly, Miles?”

Charlie’s voice is sharp, no matter that her mouth is still wet with Nora’s juices. No matter that her first instinct is to blurt yes, and stumble into whatever comes next. That’s what the Charlie she was before would have done, if she could have ever conceived of this. But it’s been a long, heartbreaking six months. The woman she is now needs to understand, damn her.

Miles tilts his head as if assessing just how much she’s ready to hear. She stares back impassively, and he concedes with a snort.

“How many men you got under your command, Charlie? Twenty? Thirty? Looking at you wanting something every time you draw breath? Well, multiply that by ten and you’ve got what it’s like to be Nora. You think a handful of Rebels is a big deal – I put her in charge of 10,000 men, once. It’s not an easy thing, command. You need to learn how to let go of it.”

His eyes are suddenly ravenous.

“And sometimes, you can’t. Not just like that. Sometimes you need to be told.”

Charlie shakes, the logic of it falling so perfectly that she suspects she had already figured it out. Had felt it in her bones, perhaps, or screamed it in her sleep. Maybe she had begged for it, her unconscious writhing from the constant adrenaline. Proximity. Raw need.

Lust, she allows, biting down hard on her lip. Watching them together, unable to decide who she wanted more. Nora had been the easy answer – beautiful, responsive, not a blood relative. Not that she cares anymore.

Or maybe she does care. Maybe that’s exactly what makes him so irresistible.

Charlie lifts her head to find them both watching her, waiting. Two sets of brown eyes veering towards black, and hungry.  Wolves both, Charlie decides. No matter how much Nora seems to enjoy playing the sheep.

“And what would you like to tell me to do, Uncle Miles?   Come sit on your knee?”

“Maybe not my knee,” he rasps, his hand sliding from Nora’s pussy to tug lovingly at his cock, jutting obscenely from between her spread thighs. “Take your clothes off.”

Charlie’s hands are clumsy with excitement as she hurries to obey.

“Come here.”

She dances forward until she’s standing between his spread legs, head swimming with arousal. Nora grabs at her hands to tug her forward until she’s bent over them, her swollen, aching breasts swinging in front of Nora’s face, her ass up in the air.

Miles whispers something she doesn’t catch in Nora’s ear, but she doesn’t have to hear Nora’s murmur of assent to know it’s an order. She winks at Charlie as she tips her head up to catch the tip of one small, sensitive breast between her lips, flicking at the nipple with her tongue as she sucks.

By the time Nora switches to the other breast, the air is full of unchecked moans, and Charlie’s pussy is clenching helplessly. Her attention fractures as Miles brings his hand up to smooth over her ass, weighing the heavy globes with a noise of pleasure, and the anticipation, the anticipation ...

* _crack_ *

Charlie shouts in shock, then realises the blow didn’t really hurt. Much. Sort of.

“What the fuck was that for?” she glares at her uncle.

“You didn’t ask permission,” he says coolly, stroking the sore spot on her ass as if to soothe it, then letting his hand wander down between the globes to investigate her throbbing pussy below. He slicks her juices over her petals and up, around her clit, then flicks it, just once.

Charlie bites off a curse as he continues on his exploration, circling the pucker of her ass a few times before his heavy hand returns to rest on the fullness of her ass. Then he brings it down hard once more.

“Jesus motherfucking Christ. What about that time?”

His grin is pure, unashamed debauchery.

“Oh, that was just because the first one made you so wet.”

She moans then, because, yes, she’s dripping and, and all she can see is Nora’s glorious face smirking up at her, bare breasts and pouting nipples above a muscle-corded belly and her pink, glistening cunt, positively taunting her, and below, sliding back and forth in a constant tease of drenched pussy lips – that huge, purple cock.

He could fuck her into the ground with that thing. Tear her apart. She shouldn’t want it so.

“Sir?”

“Yes, soldier?”

“Can I? she flicks her eyes downward, hoping that is request enough.

“Can you what. Exactly?”

“Suck your cock, Sir. Please.”

He looks at her from beneath hooded eyes for a long moment, then shakes his head.

“No. Unless – ask me again, Charlie.”

She smiles, secure in the knowledge that they are on the same page.

“Can I suck your cock, Uncle Miles? Please?”

He thunks his head back onto the sofa and makes a noise that is half concession, half order. Whatever it is, she’ll take it, Charlie smirks, sinking to her knees in front of the couch. She uses both hands, at first, pumping up at down to see just how hard she can get him before she lowers her mouth over the tip. She hums, maybe for sensual effect, or maybe its a hymn to the earth-and-musk taste in her mouth and the sweeter, heavier flavour of Nora’s sex, just inches from her face. The temptation of it claims her when she has to lift her head to breathe; she fills her lungs with air, then drags her the flat of her tongue over Nora’s deliciously tangy folds. Nora cries out, quivering under her mouth, and Charlie moves away, mindful of the game Miles had been playing.

“Good girl,” he grunts, tangling a fist in her hair. “Suck.”

She takes him in again, forcing her mouth down further, but her gag reflex is thoroughly unwilling to let her take more than a few inches of him that way. Her hands end up doing most of the work, pushing him close the edge within minutes.

Then she stops.

“Is this how it works, Uncle Miles?”

There’s no genuine outrage in his roar, she’s fairly sure, but she squawks anyway when he reaches around Nora to scoop her up like an angry god, dumping her in his lap with arms and legs akimbo. She has to grab at Nora to stay upright, and inevitably ends up with her legs splayed wide, the top layer in a sexually-charged pyramid. They are face to face, she and Nora, eye to eye, breast to breast. Charlie drags in a deep breath, then does it once more, delighted by the silken shimmy of Nora’s skin against her own.

Nora laughs and presses closer, swaying from side to side so her distended nipples rub against Charlie’s, both of them gasping at the way it feels. Their hipbones bang together and taut bellies slide together as they squirm closer, both women moaning at the unexpected glory of their wet pussies kissing around a huge, angrily aroused cock.

Miles reminds them of his presence with a buck of his hips that sets his cock to sliding through the sensitive tissues surrounding it. Charlie and Nora grip each other even tighter as grind their lower bodies together, desperate to maximise the sensation.

“Puh, puh, puh ---“ Nora begs with her eyes closed, and Charlie is reminded just how long he has been teasing the woman.

“Please, sir?” she asks. “Will you let Nora come?”

Miles raises an eyebrow at her unconvincing humility, but takes pity anyway, sliding a hand between them to rub the head of his cock back and forth over Nora’s swollen clit. Charlie catches her breath at the sight, and can’t help but reach down in a bid to help.

“I should punish you for that,” Miles spits out, but his hand is moving fast now, practically whipping Nora with his stiff, leaking cock. “Maybe I will. Come all over Nora’s tits and make you lick it off. Oh – fuck!”

He coats them both, in the end, thick white gobs that gather between her breasts and in the hollow of her collarbone and slide slowly down her body, reminding all three of them of his conquest. Charlie pushes Nora back into a still shaking Miles and fucks her slowly with two fingers, taking her right to the edge, then ratcheting up the tension exactly to Miles’ prescription before they push her over the edge. The cataclysm, Charlie notes, seems to involve every muscle in Nora’s body, and needs to be witnessed by God and all the saints according to the long paean of praise that bursts from Nora’s mouth.

“That was worth it,” Miles mumbles.

“Worth what?”

“The good whiskey. That was a Glenfiddich fucking orgasm. Maybe even one of the top shelf single malts.”

Charlie tries to swallow her stupid grin, then tells herself it was just the games they were playing that made Miles’ words so very satisfying. They’d both come, and she hadn’t even been close, and yet she felt she could fall asleep now, happy.

What the fuck was up with that?

“Charlie?”

“Yes, sir?”

“We haven’t forgotten about you. Nora wanted to save the best for last.”


	4. Chapter 4

It could have been just a throwaway comment, one of those things said in the heat of passion. Miles had just come like a freight train, after all. Maybe she should just let it slide, rather than giving it her full consideration.

“Nora wanted to, huh? And you’d talked about this? Hmmm. It’s almost like you planned this, General Matheson,” Charlie purrs, curling around Nora to drag her lips over her uncle’s cheek. “Sir,” she mouths mockingly as she licks at the corner of his mouth.

“Uncle Mi --,” the puff of his name is lost in a gasp as he fists her hair and pulls her into an openmouthed kiss, sucking on her questing tongue with an aggression that leaves her shaken to the core. She’s never been kissed like this before. Never wanted to be.

Never knew it was everything she needed, and that nothing would ever be the same again.

Nora wriggles out from between them to shimmy her way to the other end of the couch, back braced against the arm while one bent knee presses up against Miles’ shoulder. She lets the other fall wide, her fingers venturing south to stroke lightly over her mound. Her pussy is still swollen and oversensitive after the succession of orgasms, but she knows that soon, she won’t care. It’s been torture, watching it build, and yes, maybe she threw on the odd piece of tinder, was a little careless with the spark, but it doesn’t matter now. The fire is lit, burning, and she wants nothing more than to sit back and watch it explode.

Miles had fought it so long, blindsided by his sudden devotion to a girl who roused so many conflicting emotions, vindictive fate stomping all over his need to stay aloof, unencumbered, below the radar. And it wasn’t just the unwelcome tug of duty and obligation: it hadn’t started as a game, their trading tales of what they wanted to do to Charlie. It had been a confession, that first time, the words erupting into her ear as he emptied himself onto her back, “I’m sick, Nora,” and “the things I think about” and “so help me God, I want her”.

She could have stopped it right there, Nora knows. Contrary to popular belief, Miles does have a conscience – it’s just quiet, and rarely aggravated, and too easy for him to ignore. He’d adopted her as his moral compass even before he’d taken her to his bed all those years ago, and had taken mere days before she had slipped back into that role again. Her mission, if she chose to accept it: to guide him away from the excesses his dark soul seems to demand.

But the girl dances through his defences like no one she’s ever seen, and he’s better for it, lighter, and when they fight back to back and snark and plot and strategise, Miles is more alive than he’s been for years. The man he used to be, with Bass, and she can’t fight that. She won’t, because that’s who they need him to be, and she loves him that way and if she’s honest? It’s because Charlie fires her blood too.

So instead of recoiling in horror, she smiles and bites her lip, and the next time he goes down on her, tells him it’s okay.

“What’s okay?” he asked, puzzled.

“If you pretend I’m her.”

Miles groaned. “Hadn’t occurred to me but now it sure will.”

“Good. Because I’m gonna be pretending you’re her.”

And when her orgasm was a shaking, screaming thing, he sucked and licked Charlie’s name from her lips with a rapacious desire neither of them saw a need to deny. After that, every hungry glance from wide blue eyes pushed them a little further over the line.

Charlie watched them spar and Nora and Miles couldn’t help but share a smirk as the heat between them left the girl stuttering and blushing; a few days later demonstrating a hold proved full of danger when the urge to skim her hands over Charlie’s lush body nearly claimed Nora’s reason. Her hands didn’t stray, that day, but Charlie gnawed her lip bloody anyway, chest heaving and pupils dilated as they grappled.  

A week later, the three of them were running recon on a Militia outpost when they shared the unimaginable luxury of a guesthouse with a bath, hot water, and the time to enjoy it. Nora offered to wash Charlie’s back as they bathe in candlelight and the air turned thick as syrup, Charlie’s painful arousal obvious even before the rough wash cloth moved around to caress taut nipples and a flat belly, Nora taking her time and giving Charlie a thousand opportunities to object before heading for the sweet territory below the water.

“You deserve this,” she whispers as Charlie pants in her ear, and “just let go,” and later, as they lay on the bed, bodies still flushed with satisfaction, “just as well Miles didn’t come back early.”

“Mmm,” Charlie had sighed, and Nora hid a smile at way she rubbed her thighs together at the thought.

The next time it was just the three of them camped in the middle of nowhere, they didn’t even pretend Charlie was asleep before they stripped off to fuck in front of the fire, Nora on her hands and knees to showcase every plunge of his cock. It was unfair, maybe, to sob her way through her own orgasm then turn around to let him fuck her mouth, his hoarse cries not quite managing to drown out the quiet gasps as Charlie found her own peak on the other side of the fire.

If they hadn’t been running for their lives, if they hadn’t been fighting a war, if they hadn’t been Mathesons – Nora has exhausted all her excuses, and is left with only one conclusion. They were, they did, they would, and this outcome, this night, was inevitable. She can’t even find it in herself to want it any other way, her sex clenching at the sight of Charlie plastered against her uncle’s chest, their need scorching in its intensity.

Nora finds her fingers sliding through her own wetness as she watches them, watches Miles shove his inhibitions into the corner of his mind where he prefers them to live; watches Charlie shake as his hands move over her, that caramel tumble of hair frothing around her waist as she wriggles and writhes in a bid to get closer to Miles, mouth sucking at the side of his neck as if his skin is a drug.

Close enough, Nora sighs, though maybe Miles won’t need his little games with Charlie. Maybe Charlie can teach her not to need them too, not to shudder at the crack of his voice or rely on the white hot bliss of pain to help her let go.

Maybe this sunshine girl, this youthful whirlwind overflowing with passion and righteous fury, can show them all how to feel again.

Charlie shudders at the taste of whiskey and gunsmoke under her tongue. She wants to roll around in that taste, to suck it from his bones and rub it all over her skin. Her hunger for him frightens her, and suddenly there’s a long moan filling the air that gives voice to everything she’s never said. Charlie glances to her left to find Nora watching them, legs splayed wide, blood-flushed pussy a shining pink jewel that glistens wetter by the second. Her fingers slick back and forth in her juices, then nudge at her swollen clit, but don’t venture any further, as if waiting for something.

Her, Charlie discovers. Nora is waiting for her.

“Are you sure, Charlie?” Nora asks urgently, and all she can do is groan, a pathetic, needy thing that can’t begin to express everything she’s feeling. Her, him, them together: it’s their own private miracle, she gropes. Miles is her sun and Nora is her moon and when they’re together, everything in her life makes sense for a change.

“Please,” is all she can say, though, the throbbing between her legs suddenly a drumbeat driving her whole being. She’d laughed at first, looked askance as Nora submitted to Miles’ ridiculous demands, but now, now … it’s not a game anymore. She’ll do anything for him, anything to get him to touch her.

She’s mumbling, she realises. Begging. “Please, Uncle Miles. Please,sir.   Oh God, please!”

“Please what, soldier?”

His hands roam over her body, rough and gentle by turns, pinching and slapping and twisting her towards delirium.

“Please fuck me, sir. I need you inside me – I need to feel …”

Charlie’s voice disintegrates into a long wail as his teeth clamp down on the muscle above her collarbone, hard and vicious and not even vaguely pleasurable.

“Think you can handle the Butcher, soldier? People say I’m a monster. Maybe I’ll take a bite outta you instead,” he growls, licking at what she suspects is broken skin. “Maybe,” he says, hands kneading the tight globes of her ass, one finger pressing suggestively against her pucker, “I’ll fuck you bloody.”

Even as her body protests, his words leave her roasting in her skin, her sex-drenched brain unable to process anything except raw, urgent want. Truth spills from her lips like a poisoned apple.

“That’s what I deserve. To bleed. Like all those people I’ve killed. Make me bleed, Uncle Miles. Make me hurt. To pay for it.”

Charlie’s entire body vibrates with the growl that rips out of his throat, her eyes slipping shut as he drops his head to savage her breasts, sucking hard on one nipple and then the other until they are painfully erect, then worrying them with his teeth. She is so lost in the fog of lust that Nora’s cry of dismay barely registers.

“Don’t you dare, Miles,” Nora snaps, her concern for Charlie puncturing the sensual languor. “You don’t just dump someone in the deep end like that,” she hisses.

“Fuck off, Nora,” Charlie mumbles, resentful of the interruption. In that moment, Nora – wonderful Nora, amazing Nora, beloved Nora – is just another distraction competing with the dull throb of the bites littering her body, the heavy press of his finger, the scrape of his teeth. A mere obstacle to be overcome in Charlie’s bid to satisfy the need coiling in her belly, shrieking his name like a banshee.

She’s still not entirely sure what she’s asking for, has never even contemplated the idea of rough sex, but every gravelly syllable, every line of that weary warrior’s body, is telling her he understands, he knows, and he can make it all go away.

“This is how Charlie wants it,” she hears him grit out, and glares her agreement.

But even the gods of war and strife bow to fair Athene.

“That’s the thing about Mathesons,” she says coolly. “You always want what’s worst for you. We’re going to give Charlie what she needs,” Nora says pointedly, wriggling closer to run her hands soothingly over Charlie’s back.   “Turn around, baby.”

Charlie whines and squirms away, digging her fingers into Miles’ biceps in a bid to escape Nora’s kindness, but her skin is already singing to her touch.

“Hurt me!” she begs Miles, and his fingers clench hard on her buttocks as he drags in a long breath, obviously tempted. Then they release, and rub a gentle circle over the brutalised flesh.

“We’re monsters, Nora,” Charlie pleads, and then loses the thread of her argument in the loving passage of Nora’s lips down spine, tiny, adoring kisses that travel down, and then up again, anointing the full landscape of her back before her lips come to rest in the shiver-inducing spot just underneath the line of her jaw.

“No, baby girl, you’re not. We’re not,” Nora insists, reaching around to tangle her fingers in the hair at the nape of Miles’ neck. “Don’t let them take them from us.”

“Who?” Charlie thinks, but Nora’s lips have reached her own and the kiss is a slow, wet benediction; an invitation too, and she follows it back, follows Nora’s lips all the way out of Miles’ lap.

“Now,” she smiles wickedly. “Backwards.”

Miles huffs out something between relief and exultation, pumping his cock slowly as Nora helps Charlie climb over him. He thunks his head down hard onto the back of the couch as Charlie’s wet sex glosses him with her moisture, and Nora’s firm hand grabs him around the base to guide him home.

“Oh God. Fuck yes,” he hisses as Charlie starts to descend, the velvet clutch of her pussy gripping his cock like an unmerciful fist. There’s nothing left in his mind – no orders, no commands, no creeping shame, just the reality of the two women he loves most in the world, the delicious contradictions of hardened warriors and soft womanhood.

“That’s it. That’s perfect,” he hears Nora croon, and can’t help but roll his hips upwards as she presses Charlie’s knees open even wider, the position sliding his cock another half inch into her wet welcome.

And then Charlie starts to keen.

Nora is on her knees in front of them both, Miles discovers when he forces his eyes open to look. Her tongue is pure, flickering sin as she traces around Charlie’s swollen clit; then ventures lower to nibble at his cock as it moves in and out of her slippery channel. A quick deviation to nuzzle his balls lashes at his self control just enough to make him slow down in spite, and Nora smirks up at him as she moves upwards once more.

“Come for me, baby. Come all over Miles’ cock and then he can turn you around and pound you as hard as you like,” Nora promises Charlie, and his brain fritzes over into _Please God let me be capable_ and _why the fuck does my cock think it’s some randy teenager_ and _don’t come yet, don’t come yet, don’t come yet_.

“Nora, please,” he begs as his balls start to draw up. He knows she’ll recognise the strain on his face as an indicator of just how close to the edge he really is – if he’s lucky, she’ll take pity on him.

And he is, because her lips meander back up to close over Charlie’s clit, the silent scream that rips down her spine an indicator of something very, very clever that Nora has done with her tongue.   She’s still bathing him in hot gushes of heaven when he pushes himself up on one knee to push her face first into the couch. Whether she’s still in the clutches of her orgasm, or simply the aftershocks, he’s not willing to ponder.

He needs her ass in the air, and his cock pistoning in and out of her pussy right fucking now. Thankfully the tumble of filthy words coming out of that sweet, sweet mouth tells him that’s exactly what Charlie wants too.

“Fuck me now. Fuck me. Please Uncle Miles,” Charlie hears herself begging, and she’d be ashamed at how wrecked she sounds if he wasn’t fitting himself back into her trembling pussy, making her every nerve ending scream with delight.

He slicks the fingers of one hand in her wetness and grips her hip tight with the other, before slamming home in one blissful move.

Then withdrawing, then slamming home again, hard, but not fast.

That will come, she discovers. After he has primed her, over and over again. After his fingers have electrified her by dancing over her pucker in a strange concert with his thrusts, the sensation so unexpectedly erotic she finds herself pushing back, panting with the need for more.

Crying out in shocked delight when teasing circles become steady pressure, and then a pinching ingress that doesn’t feel good at all … until it does. Until it leaves her whole body seizing with the intensity of the pleasure, a white hot thunderbolt that zaps up her spine to shatter at the base of her skull, her gasps becoming screams as thumb lodges deep in her ass as his thrusts speed up, flinging her over the edge into an paroxysm of pleasure that seems to go on and on.

When she comes to, Miles has flipped them over again, and is lying on his back with both Nora and Charlie cuddled to his chest. She breaths in their scents, soaks up the warmth from their skin, and lets the steady thud of their hearts guide her back to the world.

They’re talking, she realises after a moment. Miles’ words are a low rumble that seem an afterthought next to the gratitude and awe in his voice. “Thank you,” he mutters, and “What would we do without you?”

She knows, immediately, what Miles would do – what Miles does when he pushes Nora away and won’t let her pull him back. Anything that blocks the need to feel. Drowns himself in whiskey and self-pity. Bathes in blood and sets out to murder the world.

After Danny, after Danny, after Danny …

Her feet had been set on that same path. Miles had seen it in her, recognised it, and nearly trapped them both. It’s the weakness they share, she and Miles, that ability to get so lost in their own heads that all they can see is the fight. The victory.

It’s Nora who drags them back and shows them the wider battle. Wise Nora. Cunning Nora. Ruthless Nora. In this, as in everything, their Athene.

They are chaos, and she is reason, and the Mathesons were born to bask in her wisdom as they lick the blood from her feet.

_fin_


End file.
